


Lemonade

by icantdecideonanamern



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Abused Derek, Cheating, Cheating Derek, Crazy Stiles, Daddy Derek, Daddy Stiles, Domestic Violence, Hurt, Hurt Stiles, Jealous Stiles, M/M, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sexual Violence, Shooting, Shooting Guns, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-22
Updated: 2016-09-24
Packaged: 2018-08-10 05:00:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 6
Words: 17,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7831234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icantdecideonanamern/pseuds/icantdecideonanamern
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Sterek fic based on the album "Lemonade" by Beyonce that nobody asked for in which Derek cheats and Stiles goes through an emotional rollercoaster.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Pray You Catch Me

Stiles could practically taste the dishonesty all over his breath.

He found out about a week ago, on a Monday night when the telephone rang and both he and Derek just so happened to pick it up at the same time. He wondered who would be calling at 10:00 pm and thought for sure it might be Scott, who's been calling him and asking for baby advice at inconvenient times (There was that one time when he and Derek were in the middle of, well, you know - doing it, and Stiles, never being one to actually think before he acts, answered the phone). Since he and Allison recently just gave birth to their first daughter Sarah, he assumes that Stiles would know everything there is to know about babies seeing as how he's had one for 4 years now. 

He was about to think up of some sarcastic retort to greet Scott with when a man's voice, definitely not Scott's, came through the line.

"Derek?"

"I told you not to call this number," he all but practically hisses to the phone.

The man's voice was vaguely familiar, like he's heard it more than once or twice but not enough to actually remember who it belongs to. He was about to ask the anonymous caller for his name when they spoke up again. 

"I know but he just left, do you want to come over?"

Stiles freezes. Being the son of a Sheriff, Stiles knows how to analyze a situation logically and with a clear head, yet all he could think of in that moment was illogical excuses as to why this man (who seemingly has someone special of his own by the way) would ask his husband to come over at night. Thoughts like _maybe his car needed to be fixed_ or _his dishwasher was broken_ or _the lights went out_  went through his head. Anything at all but for what it seemed like because no, his husband of 10 years, who he has a child with, would never cheat on him and be stupid enough to risk all that for sex with somebody else when Stiles knows and makes sure that Derek is satisfied each and everytime they do it, no he-

"Give me ten minutes." He hears Derek answer gruffly before hanging up the phone.

Not knowing how to react and not really feeling like any of what just transpired was real, he simply put the landline back on the stand as he heard Derek trudge up the stairs. He quickly and quietly went back to bed and pretended he was asleep as Derek entered the room. 

He hears Derek breathe a sigh of relief (the bastard) before he hears him getting dressed. After a few minutes he hears him pause by the nightstand beside the bed, Stiles briefly wondering what he's doing before the unmistakable sound of pen writing on paper fills the silence.

_How cute, he has the decency to leave a note before he goes and fucks somebody else._

He feels Derek lean down and give him a kiss on the forehead, Stiles fighting the urge to blow his cover and wipe it away in disgust.

Instead he just lays there with his eyes closed and as soon as the door closes, the first tear falls. Then the next. Then the one after that before he's full on crying, his eyes still shut through it all. A part of him hopes it was all just a bad dream and that this isn't real, that keeping his eyes closed and in the dark means that what he just heard and witnessed wasn't reality.

But then he opens his eyes and beside him is nothing but an empty bed. 

He gives himself a few more minutes to cry before he recollects himself. And then proceeds to cry even harder than last time because the tears just won't fucking stop. Finally, after what seemed like hours, though in reality it was probably just twenty minutes, he's stable enough to at least look at the post it note beside him on the nightstand.

_"Hey babe,_

_the office called. They need me there right now. Don't wait up._

_I love you,_

_Derek"_

It's the " _I love you"_ part that gets him mad and causes him to crumple it up and throw it as hard as he can across the room.

I love you? What right does he have to say that anymore? Because no, obviously he doesn't love him, because people who love each other don't go out and fuck somebody else behind their back. 

And Laura, oh Laura. What about their daughter? Did he not think twice about her before he shoved his dick in someone else? Maybe that's his problem. He didn't think. He didn't think how something like this could affect Stiles, could affect their family.

He silently got up, out of bed, and walked out into the hallway and directly next door where Laura was sleeping peacefully in her bed. She looked every little bit like their child, with Stiles' coloring and Derek's features.

Laura's birth had been bittersweet, because that same day her surrogate, Derek's sister of the same name, had died shortly after giving birth. Stiles clearly remembers the moment, the doctor telling him Laura had died, and how he's already told his "partner" (why couldn't people just call him his husband?) and how Stiles found Derek behind the glass overlooking the nursery room where their baby was resting in a crib, right in the front. Stiles remembers how Derek had looked so vulnerable and told him he wanted to name the baby Laura and how he cried quietly on Stile's shoulder as they embraced. 

The first couple of weeks had been hell, Derek was still grieving and Stiles had to do most things by himself. It's not like Derek didn't bother helping. He's offered on more than one occasion to change her diaper or be the one to rock her back to sleep in the middle of the night but Stiles always refused and claimed he wanted to do it and that he wasn't  _that_ tired, the bags forming under his eyes a clear contradiction. 

But then one night Stiles fell asleep. Hard. As in the apocalypse could've happened and the world as we know it could've ended during that night and he probably would've slept through it. Needless to say when Laura cried in the middle of the night, Derek had no choice but to deal with it himself.

Stiles woke up that afternoon (yes, as in it was 12:00pm and he had slept all through the morning) and found Derek in Laura's room, cradling her in the rocking chair in the corner as her tiny hands were reaching up to touch his chin. Derek had tears in his eyes and was whispering no doubt about how much he loved her and so on and so forth. 

Stiles isn't ashamed to say a tear or two fell out of his own eyes as he went to kneel beside his, well, family. He never thought he was the type to want a family but here is now, crying over seeing his husband interacting with their baby. God, when did he turn into such a sap?

Derek looked up at him then and softly smiled as he said the words "I love you both."

Stiles makes his way over to that same rocking chair now, sitting in it as he had that day, watching over their daughter sleeping in her bed as he had many times after that. The only difference is he's not here now.

_Where did you go?_

_Who are you with?_

_Why did you leave?_

These are all thoughts that ran through Stiles mind but one question kept nagging at the edge of his mind...

 

_What are you doing my love?_

+++++

+++++

+++++

 

 

The answer to that question, to no one's surprise, is cheating. And cheating hard, if the sounds of Danny's moaning and crying out is anything to go by.

 

He'd called Lydia up shortly after he was done reminiscing, and asked if she could watch over Laura for him for a couple hours. He thought about asking Scott first but decided against it since Lydia lived closest to him, and this was an emergency, at least in Stiles eyes. She sounded annoyed and confused, though when she showed up at his front door ten minutes later, her look of irritation quickly turned into one of worry.

"Is it Derek?" 

He nodded.

"Do what you need to do," she tells him as she steps inside, "I'm sleeping in your bed by the way, it better not reek of sex."

"Trust me it doesn't." Stiles says a little too harsh.

She catches the sound of bitterness in his voice but doesn't comment.

He gets in his jeep (his baby Roscoe) and checks his phone again for confirmation of the address. Stiles, knowing Derek's icloud account information, had used "Find my iPhone" to find out his husband's location earlier after calling Lydia. When he goes to plug it into his GPS he finds that the address had already been saved, and suddenly remembers how Derek used Roscoe when his own camaro was in the shop.

Two months ago.

Anger and frustration builds inside of Stiles as it dawns on him that this little... _thing,_ might've been going on longer than he thought. 

The drive takes about twenty minutes since it's all the way on the other side of town, tears threatening to spill over his eyes as he speeds through the streets, luckily never getting pulled over. Or worse, getting pulled over by his father who's still on duty and would probably shoot Derek if he found out why Stiles was speeding.

Stiles pulls up next to a tiny ranch house that's clearly the house with the address and that's when it hits him. It was Danny's voice through the telephone. Stile's knows this because he's met him the few times Jackson brought him along for the company's dinner parties, introducing him as  _his husband._ Great, so not only is Derek possibly cheating on him, he's (possibly) cheating on him with another married man, one who is married to his co-worker might he add.

He shuts the engine off and contemplates what to do next.

Option one, he could knock on the door and kill Derek. Option two, he could send a brick through the window and possibly kill Derek. Option three, he's going to kill Derek.

_Wait a minute, I don't even know for sure if he is cheating on me._

He gets out of Roscoe and quietly shuts the door (suppressing the urge to slam it as hard as he possibly can so they can hear it even from inside the house) and looks at the house. It's a ranch so there is no upper floor, all the lights turned off except for one room with a window lit towards the right side of the house. 

Stiles makes his way towards the window and it's when he's only about a foot away from the window that he hears it. A moan, loud and clear. Not being able to see past the closed blinds, he presses his ears up against the window and surprisingly (to his joy and dismay) can hear pretty clearly inside the room.

Of course there isn't much of anything to hear other than the sound of Danny screaming in ecstasy. And for a split second (despite seeing Derek's stupid black camaro that he refuses to get rid of parked out front) Stiles hopes that maybe he isn't here, that the person fucking Danny into oblivion was Jackson or even somebody else, anybody else.

Then he hears Derek's voice.

And that's not even the worse part. It's one thing to hear Derek grunting and maybe saying overused porn lines like "yea take it" or shit like that, but it's another for him to be "whispering" sweet phrases, calling Danny beautiful, and saying other intimate shit that up until now Stiles believed were solely reserved for him.

Guess not.

He's never been all that religious but right now, he's praying. He's praying Derek catches him listening, prays he catches him whispering, prays he catches him so he can see just how much he's hurt him or maybe even try to reassure him how it was all a mistake and say that he loves him and only him.

He gets back in Roscoe and drives home, heart broken into pieces.

He prays but maybe God was busy that night, because the only answer he got from his prayer was the sound of his husband making love to another man.

 

+++++  
+++++  
+++++

 

 

A week has gone by and passed. Stiles says nothing about what he'd witnessed to Lydia once he comes home. He drinks a whole bottle of wine and falls asleep on the couch, woken up hours later by none other than his devoted loving husband, whose eyebrows were furrowed up in concern because it's _not normal for Stiles to get drunk on a work night._ Stiles almost laughs. Is it normal to fuck somebody else on a work night then?

A week went by and Stiles kept his mouth shut, because as much as he wants to go up to Derek and just kick him in the balls, he's also hurt. Because he still loves him. And so he tries to function as best as he can because while he's not in denial, he doesn't quite know what to do yet either, and a part of him is scared that once he lets Derek know that he knows, then that'll be it. That all those years of being in love and being happy together just goes down the drain. And besides, he hasn't gone back to Danny since that night, hasn't made any excuses that the office needs him at a late hour (which really Derek? That's so cliche you might as well come right out and say it), until today.

"Hey babe," Derek calls out after they've finished eating breakfast, Stiles clearing the plates while Laura plays with her toys in the living room.

Stiles inwardly cringes at being called babe, it's one of many pet names he and Danny share now.

"What?" he snaps back.

"I'm going to be working overtime today, so I won't be able to make it by dinner. Don't wait up ok?"

He's putting on his jacket and picking up his keys as he's getting ready to go and something about that gets to Stiles. The fact that he doesn't even wait for Stiles to answer and see if he accepts his lame excuse before he goes on to no doubt make love to Danny again, really fires up something in Stiles. 

He's about to walk out the door when Stiles calls out, "Hold up."

 

 


	2. Hold Up

_He doesn't love you like I love you_

Those were the words that Stiles wanted to say in that moment, as Derek looked expectantly at him, waiting for him to answer.

"Well?" he asks, a hint of irritation peeking from his voice.

See, now that's what really pissed Stiles off. Why the hell should _HE_ be annoyed with Stiles? 

"Derek I kno-"

The sound of Derek's phone went off, interrupting Stiles mid sentence. Derek answers the call before practically growling out "What?"

His face softens a bit before his eyes quickly dart to Stiles and then down to the ground, turning his back to him before saying a quick "On my way," to whoever it was on the other side of the call. 

But before he could even ask who it was, Derek looks up at him and Stiles just  _knows._ He knows  _exactly_ who it was on the phone because Derek has this certain glint in his eyes that Stiles registers as guilt.

"They need me there right now, I'm running late already. Were you going to say something important or can it wait till I get home?"

_That's IF you still have a home to go home to._

At this moment, Stiles has had enough. He's had enough of standing by and just taking Derek's shit. He isn't some fucking housewife who'll just stay home and cry about the fact that his husband is cheating on him, no, he's going to do something about it, something big. 

Now wasn't the time however, he'll lead Derek to believe that he's in the dark for just a little while longer.

"Oh, never mind. It was just something silly." he says to him, a grin forming on his face.

Derek pauses for a moment before replying "...um, ok then," and heads to the living room.

He picks up Laura, and says his goodbyes to her as kisses her belly. She laughs and wriggles and cries out and just for a second Stiles forgets about Derek's affair, and relishes in how happy the two people he loves the most are right now.

And then Derek's phone chimes signaling a text.

He kisses Laura one last time on the cheek (which she adorably returns on Derek's nose) before putting her down and checking his phone.

"Who is it?" Stiles asks a little too sweetly.

Derek looks up at him, "Just work." he says as he puts the phone back in his pocket.

_Mmmm hmmm_

"I should get going," he walks towards Stiles and give him a peck on the cheek, "Bye babe, I love you."

As soon as the door shuts Stiles quickly takes his hand and wipes the spot on his cheek where Derek kissed him.

"Thats not nice." Laura says from where she's standing in the middle of the living room, a clear view of where Stiles stands in the doorway, hands on her hips looking every bit as sassy as her Auntie Lydia. God, he really needs to find a babysitter or something before Laura turns into Lydia 2.0.

"Oh you saw that? I was just..." he thinks for a moment, "wiping a bug..off my..my face. Because that's a thing.."

She clearly looks unimpressed, "Mmmm hmmm."

Okay so maybe she does get a little bit of her sass from Stiles. Just a little bit. 

"Uncle Scott's coming over with Sarah today," Stiles offers as a peace offering.

Apparently it works, because next thing you know she's all excited and saying something about needing to look nice for company (no doubt Lydia's influence once again) and forgetting that she just saw her dad wipe away her other dad's kiss in disgust.

He heads upstairs to change (because really he's almost 35 and he doesn't want to look less put together than his 4 years old daughter) and he's just put on a clean shirt when he sees it, Derek's briefcase, still in its place by the bedroom door. The briefcase that's filled with all the important shit Derek needs for work.

Automatically, he's about to dial Derek and call him to come get his suitcase when it occurs to Stiles that Derek could have (possibly) left it here on purpose, lied to him, and not gone to work at all.

So that he could be with Danny. All day.

Stiles takes his phone out and digs in his contacts for Derek's secretary's number. After pressing dial (with a little more force than required) he waits impatiently as the line rings, until a bored voice (finally) answers, "Hello, you've called Derek Hale's office, how can I help you?"

"Erica?" 

"Stiles, hey! Been a long time since you needed to call me for anything. What's wrong?" she says with worry and Stiles can't help but feel a little guilty. Truth be told, Erica was really the only person he genuinely enjoyed talking to (mostly because she can be an asshole, but a funny one at that) out of all of Derek's co-workers, and he hasn't really talked to her since Laura turned 3.

"No don't worry, nothing's wrong but I was just wondering if Derek was there? He kinda left something important at home."

"Derek? Isn't he with you?"

Stiles heart stops. "Why would he be with me?"

Erica laughs nervously "Um, because he's been on vacation this whole week? Don't worry I've been taking on some of his duties and glaring at the people that are slacking."

Stiles laughs. At first it was at the joke, because admittedly it was funny, but then he just keeps laughing. Because god damn it, Derek got him, and he got him good. Since Monday night he's never made any excuse to stay out later than usual or go somewhere in the middle of the night. Nope, he was coming and going the usual times, or so he thought. Stiles couldn't believe he was stupid enough to actually trust his cheating husband to tell the truth of his whereabouts when all that time, he's probably been with Danny.

And so Stiles laughs. Laughs even after he's hung up on Erica, and when Laura comes into the room, asking what was so funny before joining him in laughter. He laughs until tears threaten to (once again) spill out of his eyes.

 _That's been happening a lot recently_ , Stiles realizes before forcing him self to stop so he he won't cry. 

After a week of crying whenever he stopped to think about Derek and Danny, Stiles had decided that it was time to stop being sad and jealous and start being crazy.

When Laura leaves his room he goes to change his clothes once again. Knowing he's been dressing in all black and dark colors recently (he might have been subconsciously grieving through the color of his wardrobe, don't judge him it's not weird) he picks out the brightest attention grabbing clothing he can think of so he wears his yellow pajama bottoms with a Batman t-shirt (because he _IS_ Batman), his bright red high top converse sneakers, and to top it all off, a huge canary yellow cape from...well actually Stiles can't remember why he would own such a thing.

When he goes downstairs to greet Scott, who Laura had let in while he was getting ready, he's met with shocked stares from everyone (even the baby seemed to look at him in horror).  

Smiling, he twirls around letting the cape fly in all directions (nearly knocking over a vase) and asks "How's it look?"

Laura, of course, loves it (he made sure to teach her the importance of comic books at a young age, meaning her bedtime stories consisted of Marvel and DC comics) while Scott just looks at him worriedly with his puppy dog eyes as he asks "Dude are you ok? Are drunk or something?"

He's simultaneously cradling and carrying Sarah in his arms, who keeps giggling at Stiles.

"Never been better," he says and it's half true, because right now he's feeling better than he has in a while, "Listen, I need to go take care of something real quick, do you mind watching Laura till I get back?"

"Sure thing man but Stiles," he looks him up and down, "Are you _really_ gonna go out like that?"

Stiles gives a genuinely hearty laugh at that as he shuts the front door, leaving Scott to believe that his best friend might have actually gone crazy.

 

+++++  
+++++  
+++++

 

 

Any fucks Stiles still might have had are gone now. As in GONE.

 

After using "Find my iPhone" to find Derek's location yet again (bless the genius who created this app) Stiles ended up at a quaint little shopping street, complete with a cafe, some fruit/vegetable stands, a recreational store where children are playing catch right outside, and a variety of other small stores.

Getting out of Roscoe, he starts strolling through the streets, bopping to the Caribbean beat playing over the speakers. He starts humming along as he looks around for Derek's camaro and finds it parked in all its glory right in front of the cafe across the street from where the children are playing catch. 

Stiles snickers to himself.

_It's almost too easy_

He strides over to one of the children who's holding a bat in his hands and says, "Hey lemme borrow this real quick please, thank you." and takes the bat (entitled Hot Sauce which, ok, pretty weird name for a bat) before the kid could even respond.

Stiles _skips_ , like actually _skips_  towards Derek's camaro, Hot Sauce swinging in his hands the entire time.

As he's walking, he catches a few people sitting around the cafe staring at him like he's lost his mind, and to be honest, they're probably right.

Once he reaches it, he does NOT hesitate, crying out in anger before swinging straight towards the window on the driver's side.

The glass immediate shatters, flying out everywhere and people are literally screaming in horror, the children behind him running away and calling for their mothers. He smirks to himself.

_Oh, I'm just getting started._

Laughing out loud and louder than he has all week, he continues to smash every glass surface on the camaro in whirlwind of fury. Pretty soon the headlights, tail lights, rearview mirrors, and the back windshield are demolished. 

Halfway through destroying the back windshield, he notices several people standing a few feet away with their phones out, no doubt taking a video of him. And so he does what anybody caught on camera destroying a car would do, he smiles and waves towards the group of people right before delivering a final blow that caused the back windshield to completely deteriorate.

A few pieces actually cut Stiles on his hands, but he was too enveloped in his act of rage to actually notice. He climbed on the top of the camaro (which have you ever actually tried to mount a car? Because it is no easy feat and Stiles deserves a fucking medal for that shit alone) and swung, full force, straight down unto his front windshield.

It took a few swings but eventually the windshield was entirely gone and Stiles celebrated by dancing on top of his car while the car alarm was going off.

He spots a fire hydrant a couple of feet in front of Derek's car and practically falls trying to get down from the car. Still smiling wide, he takes one last final swing and breaks the top open, water spilling up, out, and directly into his precious camaro.

_Water damage is a bitch._

Stiles spreads his arms wide open, welcoming the few water streams raining down on him as he laughs and spins around and around, letting the water soak him.

_God, revenge is SO underrated_

"STILES?" 

_Aha, here he is ladies and gentleman, the man of the hour himself, Mr. Derek "I'm a fucking cheater" Hale_

As Stiles turns to look at Derek and sees his face gone pale and eyes comically shot wide (seriously he should take a picture) he realizes he's said that last sentence out loud. Oops. Oh well, secret's out.

Derek takes in the scene before him, looks at the remains of his camaro, and his husband dancing happily near the fire hydrant and suddenly gets furious, stalking over to Stiles, getting instantly soaked himself in the process.

"Give me this shit before you hurt someone." he says as he reaches for the bat, still in Stiles hand.

Stiles hold on to the handle of the bat, pulling Hot Sauce back towards him.

"Tell me Derek," Stiles was practically shouting now as they fought for the bat, "WAS IT WORTH IT?!"

"You're being fucking crazy right now," he growls out.

Stiles laughs as he looks out at the crowd he's attracted. Almost every hand had a recording device of some form or another in their hand. He knows he's going to regret this tomorrow but right now he can't find it in himself to care.

His eyes land on one particular person however, right in the front who's simply staring at the scene in horror.

Danny.

Feeling anger boil up inside of him, he looks back at his husband.

"Careful Derek," he says as adrenaline shoots through him (giving him strength he didn't know he had) and instead of pulling, he pushes the bat past Derek's grip and aims it right for his balls. It hits him right on his crotch area. Hard.

With a loud oomph, Derek falls to his knees, clutching his dick and practically howling in pain.

"Don't hurt yourself."


	3. Don't Hurt Yourself

It's dusk by the time Stiles gets home, immediately shooting Scott a text asking him to keep Laura at his house over night.

Scott (being the best bro there is on the planet) quickly replied agreeing but demanding all the details tomorrow. See, that's the best part about Scott, he always willing to lend his help when you need it but won't ask for details till after everything's done and over with.

He's standing in the doorway and slowly walks through the entry hallway, hands skimming the walls as he does so.

_Lets play a game called 'Destroy all of Derek's Shit'_

He heads up the stairs towards their room (purposefully knocking over the vase he almost knocked over earlier), and when he catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror he stops to take a look.

To put it quite frankly, he looks batshit crazy.

His pajama bottoms still haven't completely dried and are torn to shreds (probably from when he slid down from the top of the camaro), his cape and converse sneakers in similar fashion (although his Batman t-shirt looked almost untouched).

_No no, that just won't do._

Stiles takes his cape off and flings it to the side of the room, climbs out of his shoes, and pulls off his shirt and pants. Balling it up, he aims for the vanity and throws it as hard as he can, knocking over most of the items on top of it.

Walking over to their closet, he puts on a pair of sweats (it's slightly too big so he tightens the strings in the front and ties it together, emphasizing his ass to remind Derek what he's missing out on), and deciding against wearing a shirt, he reaches for Derek's leather jacket instead and puts it on.

Looking at himself in the mirror, he has to admit, he looks pretty hot.

It's this realization that causes him to get angry all over again, because you know what? He IS fucking sexy, he's got a great ass, and he knows he's just as tight as any virgin out there.

Above all that, he knows he's a great friend, a great father, and a great husband, always putting everyone else's needs before his own.

_So WHY? Why him, what does he have that I don't?_

Crying out in rage, he delivers a fatal punch to the mirror, which obliterates upon contact of his fist. 

Wincing a bit, he notices blood running from the cuts on his knuckles. It hurts but not giving a fuck, he picks up the wooden frame stand and chucks it towards the vanity mirror, shards of glass flying everywhere.

The sound of glass shattering, wood breaking, and destruction in general is oddly satisfying to Stiles ears.

Heading back to the closet he takes all of Derek's clothing, from his stupidly expensive suits (really though, who spends 100$ just on the jacket alone?) to his jeans and t shirts and collects it all in a pair of laundry bags, before adding in his shoes as an afterthought.

Dragging the heavy bags down the stairs and out into the backyard, he heads back to the kitchen, grabbing some matches from the cabinet and the big jug of extra virgin olive oil (or E.V.O.O. as Rachel Ray calls it), before taking the laundry bags and spilling all their content out in the middle of the yard.

Unscrewing the jug of olive oil, he unloads it all over the pile, getting some gas from the shed when he's not thoroughly satisfied with how soaked Derek's belongings are. After he empties the can of gas on it, he lights a match (which always takes one or two strikes before producing a steady flame) and throws it into the pile.

It catches fire immediately, though it spreads at a slow pace, slower than Stiles wants it to. And so he lights another match, and another one, and another one, emptying out the box even after the whole pile is up in flames.

He takes a lawn chair from the shed and sets it right in front of the fire, the smell of fumes strong in the air, as the smoke accumulates and thickens. The light from the fire (which only seems to be growing bigger instead of dying down, are fires supposed to do that?) casts a reddish glow to his environment as shadows wave to and fro on his face.

He's aware that anyone who just so happened to look at him during this moment in time would most likely be scared of him, seeing as how he's watching a big fire up close with a death stare, calmly sitting as the flames rise higher and higher.

"STILES!"

He looks up to see Derek standing atop the small balcony from their bedroom, hands gripping the railing as if his life depended on it (seriously though, even from where he's sitting he can see how white his knuckles are) and so Stiles gives a resigned little sigh before standing up from his seat and calmly entering his house.

As soon as he's inside Derek charges down the steps and disappears into the kitchen briefly (yelling something along the lines of "What the fuck Stiles?!" and "Are you fucking crazy?!"), before coming out with the fire extinguisher in his hands and brushes past Stiles to go put out the fire in the backyard.

Stiles just shrugs to himself and walks back upstairs, hands trailing along the staircase railing, and into their bedroom which looks completely and utterly wrecked, as if a tornado _literally_ flew around the room the room before he came in.

He saunters over to the balcony overlooking the backyard, just in time to catch Derek put out the last of the flames.

_My fucking hero._

Derek looks up and meets Stiles eyes, throwing the fire extinguisher to the side before puffing angrily and storming off, out of Stiles view, and into the house.

Shortly after, Stiles hears the door to the backyard bang shut so he slowly turns around to face the room, leaning back on the balcony seductively, and spreads his arms out on the railing.

When Derek stalks into the bedroom moments later, he gets caught off guard for a few seconds at the sight of Stiles (who catches the way Derek's eyes dart up and down his body, and the way his tongue flicked out to lick his lips) before shaking his head off and staring at him with a cautionary expression, like a person would approach a wild animal.

"Do you like what you see?" Stiles says with a bitter edge in his voice as he strolls over to Derek.

Derek, not knowing what to do, just stands there.

When he reaches him, Stiles stands on his toes as he rests his arms on his shoulders, his face leaning towards his neck.

"Tell me," he whispers into his ear, "What does he have that I don't?"

When Derek gives no response he stands back down and nudges him on the shoulder.

"Huh? Tell me!" he nudges him on the other shoulder, "Tell me you fucker! Tell me what what THE FUC-"

Stiles gets interrupted by Derek's mouth on his, as they kiss harder than they ever have in years, both fighting one another for control.

And just for a moment Stiles lets himself enjoy it, relishes in the feeling of Derek's tongue in his mouth, sucking on his lip, nipping his neck.

Until he realizes that these are the same lips that have kissed someone else's husband. These are the same lips that have lied to him. The same pair of lips that have called somebody else beautiful so intimately, and that's when a fire starts back up in Stiles heart.

He puts his hand on Derek's chest and forces himself to pull away from Derek (and goddammit that was hard because Derek's probably the best kisser he's ever known) before pushing him with all his might down on the bed.

Derek's only disoriented for a split second before leaning down on his arms, looking at him with hunger in his eyes, as he spreads his legs wide open.

Stiles realizes with a start that he's fully hard, they both are. Still angry however he pushes Derek back down on the bed and straddles his waist, letting his ass brush all up against his hard on.

He lean back down to Derek's ear.

"Tell me," he whispers as he grinds down, "Was he as good as me?" 

Derek thrusts up as he grinds down, creating a heated friction between them.

"No," he ground out, voice hard and breathy, "He isn't you."

Stiles smirks bitterly, "No of course he wasn't," he says as he bites down on a tendon hard, drawing blood.

He sits back up, lapping up the small trail of blood in the corner of his mouth.

Derek looks lust crazy, having this feral, animalistic look in his eyes like he just wants to _take_.

Stiles gives a little smile.

_I have him right where I want him_

He raises his hand (quite dramatically might he add, he doesn't know how Derek didn't see this coming) and slaps Derek hard across the cheek, the sound resonating throughout the otherwise empty house.

Derek pauses, still registering the fact that Stiles bitch slapped him and it _hurt_.

He sits up and puts a hand on his cheek (That'll definitely leave a mark), before looking at Stiles with this look of confusion and awe on his face.

That just makes Stiles even more furious.

_Did he really think, even for one second, that I would willingly jump into bed with him right after finding out he was cheating?_

"Unlike you, I didn't have to fuck somebody else to know that you were it for me."

He climbs off of him and storms out.

He destroys all the pictures hung up on the walls as he walks past them, throwing it as far as he could, in no particular direction. 

He's down the stairs, and in the entry hallway when he hears Derek call out "Stiles!" and something about his voice made Stiles freeze in his tracks.

Because he didn't sound angry, but rather desperate and just.... sad really.

He turns around slowly and sees Derek rush down the last few steps before practically racing to where Stiles was, and _kneels_ (actually _kneels_ ) before him.

"Please," he says and Stiles almost cringes because Derek's voice is shaking and he's looking at him like his whole life is burning down before his eyes, "Please just let me explain Stiles, don't go. I love you....so much, and I am so sorry, just please.." his voice going out on the last part.

Stiles knows the mature thing to do would be to talk it out (like actual adults you know?), hear him out, and come to a decision on whether or not to stay together. 

But a part of Stiles just really wants Derek to hurt, just as much as he's hurt him.

And so, instead of responding he raises his hand, takes his wedding ring off, and throws it in his face, before walking out the door.

 

+++++  
+++++  
+++++

 

 

When he's halfway to Scott's house, he pulls over to the side of the road to park his jeep, as a flood of tears fall from his eyes.

Bowing his head on the steering wheel, he lets it all out while there's no one to watch him.

"I'm sorry," He cries out to no one in particular, sobbing in the dark.

That one word kept haunting him, repeating in his head over and over again.

_Sorry.._

_Sorry.._

_Sorry..._

 


	4. Sorry

The thought of Derek hadn't crossed his mind all night, despite the fact that he's been blowing up his phone from all the texts and voice messages he's leaving behind.

Stiles was currently dancing the night away, out in the middle of the dance floor full of hot men, feeling light as a feather.

Laura had also been dancing the night away, albeit in a much more innocent setting, currently having a girl's night at Scott's house with Auntie Allison and Auntie Lydia.

It was Scott's idea to go out tonight, after Stiles had shown up at his doorstep, bleeding and bursting out into tears every five minutes, thinking that what his best friend needed right now was a night out on the town, just to let loose, act wild, and forget about Derek (who he now currently hates after Stiles tells him about everything).

And so he called up Isaac, thus getting "The Three Amigos" back together (what Stiles used to call their little group back in High School), and the trio went around town looking for somewhere to just have fun. Besides, Scott needed this too since Sarah was in that stage where she wails in the middle of the night.

The first place they had gone to was a bar called "Faceless Wolf" which was located on the more sketchier side of town, and at first glance, it looked normal enough, though the whole building just looked...dingy, like it hasn't been properly cleaned in years. The fact that the light on the letter "L" and "O" had gone out, hanging as if it were on the verge of crashing down at any given moment, didn't exactly help to encourage them to go in.

"Maybe it's better on the inside?" Scott had offered, the trio leaning forward towards the windshield from where Isaac's van was parked, and watched as the letter "L" had finally given way and crashed to the ground, nearly hitting an old lady who was passing by, before the letter "O" followed suit and collapsed in a big mess on the sidewalk.

Isaac simply stares at the scene before them, pauses for a couple seconds, before shifting the gear into drive and backs out of their parking space.

"Yea, no way we're going in that shitty place."

Both Scott and Stiles hum in agreement.

 

+++++  
+++++  
+++++

 

 

About twenty minutes later, (ten of which Stiles spent researching on his phone for a good place to go to, which he could have easily done in less than five minutes if only Derek would stop calling him) they end up in a place called Beacons, an underground nightclub where you have to take an elevator down in order to enter the club, which they all found a bit scary (though they'd never admit it out loud) because it was a pretty long ride down.

_Just how far down are we?_

Finally, the elevator bell chimes, as the doors slide open to reveal....

_Wow, that's a lot of people._

The club was packed, with so many people out dancing on the dancefloor, couples making out at random places, and a few hardcore party people passed out drunk.

They choose to sit down at the bar first, Isaac ordering a water (being the designated driver) while Scott checks his phone.

"How do they have wifi down here?" He says to no one in particular, staring at his phone in awe.

Stiles looks around not knowing exactly what to do (don't judge, it's been a long time since he's gone clubbing), so he calls over another bartender to order a drink.

The bartender turns around from where she was talking up two older men (for more tips no doubt) and faces him, eyes suddenly squinting as she looks at Stiles.

"Hey, don't I know you?"

"Um..." Stiles stares at the woman, with her muscled arms, dark skin, a mass of big curly hair, and can't seem to remember ever meeting her, "No, I don't believe we've ever met before."

She looks confused for a second before realization dawns in her eyes,"Oh my god, you're the crazy Batman guy from the internet!!!!" yelling loud enough for people at the bar to look at him.

Stiles feels his blood rush to his cheeks, turning a deep shade of red.

_Oh shit. shit shit shit shit shit._

_She is not talking about what he thinks she's talking about._

"Uhh.." Scott starts, looking genuinely confused, his brows drawn up in confusion, "What exactly are you talking about?"

Surprisingly, it's Isaac who speaks up.

"She's talking about Stiles' viral video where he goes to town on Derek's camaro" he says coolly, taking a sip of his water.

Both Stiles and Scott look at him with wide eyes.

"You mean you knew about this?!" Scott asks, his mouth open in an O shape, emphasizing his crooked jaw.

"You guys didn't?" he responds, looking puzzled as he takes in the surprised looks on their faces, "I thought you guys already knew."

"No Isaac, of course we knew," Stiles remarks, "In fact, that's why we wanted to go out tonight, so people could look at me and think I'M FUCKING CRAZY!", quietly hissing out that last part.

Isaac just shrugs as he picks up his glass again, mumbling "Everyone already knows that.." before tipping his head up, finishing off his drink.

Just as Stiles was about to reach over to smack Isaac on the back of his head, the bartender speaks up.

"Can I please get a picture with you?" she asks, phone in hand.

He looks back at her dumbfounded, "Why would you want to take a picture with a crazy man?"

She looks back at him bemused, "Haven't you seen the video?" (which, no he has not seen the video, was she not paying attention to their conversation just now) "People are rooting for you, look."

She hands him her phone and Stiles scrolls through the comments, in awe of how many people are actually _rooting_ for him, saying how he should've done worse, how they hope that he leaves his "no good cheating asshole of a husband", and how he's their 'Hero' for destroying Derek's camaro, although there is one comment that calls him a shitty person for doing so.

Stiles snickers.

_He's probably a cheater himself._

 

Giving her phone back, he beams at her and says, "Sure" causing her to smile wide herself.

"Thank you so much!" She says as she positions the phone to take a selfie, telling him to "Put his middle fingers up!" (which he obliges to do because to be honest he's a little scared of her) as she snaps the photo.

After that, many people come up to him asking for pictures, asking to buy him drinks, and Stiles says yes to everything because why not? He was enjoying being an internet sensation, even if it's only for a little while before the video dies down.

On any given (sober) day, Stiles will admit that he's pretty good at dancing (despite being a klutz in general), but when he gets a few drinks in him, suddenly his dance skills evolve and he's on the same level as like Beyonce or something (Scott's words not his).

So many pictures and drinks taken later Stiles, pretty drunk on alcohol and his newfound fame, saunters up to the middle of the dancefloor when he hears his song playing (Loose My Breath by Destiny's Child) and goes all out, feeling the beat of the music with every fiber of his being as he dances his heart out.

Almost immediately, the clubbers around him take notice, and soon forms a circle around him, egging him on as his (usually awkward) limbs wave to and fro, in perfect sync with the rhythm.

Stiles takes it all in, dancing passionately for what seems like forever (at one point he was dancing with the bartender from earlier, both of them twerking up on one another) before heading back to the bar to a drunk Scott crying and leaning on Isaac, babbling something about Allison being too good for him.

Surprisingly, Stiles isn't as drunk as he was when he started dancing, the dancing seeming to have taken some of the buzz off.

He claps Scott on the back twice before he and Isaac gives the other a look that says 'time to go home', each taking one of Scott's arms and guiding him to one of the four elevators. 

Stiles leans over and presses the  ^ button, waiting for a cart to come down.

"Did you have fun Stiles?" Scott mumbles, as he leans his head on Stiles' shoulders.

He rolls his eyes, "Yes Scott I had a lot of fun," he says, his voice genuine. He really did have fun tonight.

"Good, because I just want you to be happy you know...you...you deserve the best bro....and i want you to know that.." Scott rambles as he looks up at Stiles, "Also...." he gives a quick little burp before saying, "You are a dancing MACHINE man." and then proceeds to flash his crooked smile at him.

The elevator doors open and they quickly head in, too focused on keeping Scott upright to notice someone standing near the elevator buttons.

Derek.

He pushes a button and the elevator doors close, just as a group of girls headed towards the elevator tells them to keep it open.

"What the hell are you doing here Derek?" Stiles says harshly, glaring at him and belatedly realizing that Derek looks like a mess, unshaven, hair ruffled, and wearing the same clothes as when he last saw him.

He actually looks down in guilt as he glumly says "You're not the only one who knows about 'Find My iPhone' Stiles." 

Before he could respond, Stiles gets interrupted (that's what, the second time it's happened tonight?) being pushed to the side as Scott yells out in rage and launches himself at Derek.

"You HURT my bestfriend YOu DICKHEAD!!!" he cries out as he throws punches and slaps the fuck out of Derek.

Isaac pauses in disbelief for a few seconds before he wraps his arms around Scott effectively restraining him.

That is until Scott decides to use his feet to kick at Derek's face instead.

Derek remains standing there and continues to just take it, not even lifting a finger to defend himself.

Stiles, really kind of shocked at seeing Scott so violent, just stands there and looks at the scene before him, clueless on what he should do.

The elevator bell dings as the doors finally open (thankfully to an empty room), Isaac quickly dragging Scott (who's dishing out all sorts of profanities at Derek's way) out the doors.

Stiles steps out of the elevator and  (against his better judgement) looks back at Derek, his heart immediately clenching.

Because Derek's still standing in the elevator, looking at him with this expression that Stile's can't describe as anything but just....hurting.

The kind of hurt that cuts you deep down to your core.

He's got a few bruises forming already, and Scott even managed to bust his lip open, blood protruding from the cut.

"STiles.." he starts, his voice croaky and broken, as he reaches his hand out towards him.

"Don't," Stiles responds, turning his head away, unable to stand the sight of seeing the man he loves (because as much as he hates to admit it, he does still love him) so broken down and hurt.

"Just don't."

Derek's hand slowly retreats back to his side as the elevator bell dings once again, the doors closing on him.

 

 

+++++  
+++++  
+++++

 

 

When Stiles walks outside he's greeted by Scott drunkedly pushing a finger at his chest.

"What did you ever see in that fucker anyway?" 

Stiles just rolls his eyes again, "His dick Scott. His dick." 

Scott scoffs.

"It's probably only like... 6 inches anyway..."

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you guys catch that Serena Williams (the bartender) and Solange (elevator fight) reference though lol ;)


	5. 6 Inch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long ass wait, I wanted to take my time and make sure this was a longer, more in-depth chapter than the previous ones. WARNING: there is VIOLENCE, SHOOTINGS, and CHILD RAPE in this chapter so be warned. Definitely not my happiest piece of work lol but I hope you guys like it anyway and that it's well worth the wait.

Derek Hale had only been four years old when his father nearly beat him to death.

Now truth be told, he doesn't remember much about his father at all, just that he was grouchy, smoked, and drank a lot. He doesn't remember when his father had started hitting him either, but he remembers the last day he lay a hand on him.

Because it was also the day his father died.

His father had been drinking a substantial amount that day and was meaner than usual. Derek doesn't remember exactly what he did to tick him off but he remembers the way the cigarettes had burned his skin, the sting of the first slap, and the second, and the third, till the pain felt nonexistent. Until he felt...numb.

He remembers the way his mother had walked into the house with his sister, the way their shrill screams pierced his young ears, and the way his father had pounced on his mother to beat her.

He remembered feeling anger and rage boil inside of him for the first time in his life, and wishing that he was strong enough to do _something_ , _anything_ other than lie there, the taste of iron from his own blood strong in his mouth, while his mother gets mercilessly pounded, her cries filling the air.

But he also remembers his mother fighting back (for once), before pushing his father off of her and unto the floor, grabbing the gun in the drawer and pointing it at him, warning him to stay back.

He distinctly remembers how the gun made a _click_ sound before it went off, and a small bloody hole suddenly appearing on the back of his dad's head, spraying him and Laura (who had knelt right beside him to hold him) in their father's blood.

How could he forget?

How could he forget the way his mother had ran up to him and Laura, tears falling down her only working eye as she bled from the other?

Or the way they had held each other, sobbing as the cops came to arrest their pregnant mother who had done nothing wrong and saved his life?

 

 

How could he forget the _guilt_ he had already felt at just four years old, for making his mother kill their father?

 

 

+++++

+++++

+++++

 

 

Derek Hale had only been eight years old when _"it"_   first happened.

And the fucked up thing was, he never fought it. 

Four years after the incident (which they almost never talked about), his mother had relocated him, Laura, and the new baby Cora to their Uncle Peter's house, who had been living in California at the time with his wife, their Aunt Henny.

His mother had undergone a long and rigorous trial (giving birth _inside a courthouse_ , of all places), and was held under custody for almost two years while a woman named Elissa (a family friend) took care of the young trio.

After the trial was over and his mother was found innocent, they had continued to live with Elissa (who the children had grown fond of, dubbing her _"Auntie E"_ ) before she eventually had to move to Japan in order to live with her longtime girlfriend, Lexa. And so, the Hale family packed their bags and moved across the country to the bright sunny state of California where they were supposed to start anew and hopefully live out the rest of their lives in peace.

But things didn't work out that way.

Since the death of his father, Derek was pretty much only surrounded by women; his mother, Laura, Cora, Auntie E , and his Aunt Henny. In fact, the only other male figure in his life was his Uncle Peter.

Something about Uncle Peter drew him in, but also creeped him out. He noticed sometimes, (being quite observant from a young age) how Uncle Peter would look at him....weird. And how his eyes always seemed to linger on him whenever he was in the same room with him, making Derek feel uncomfortable. Despite this however, the two grew close, his Uncle being the only one willing to actually play with him (he tried asking Laura to play cars with him once but she didn't know how), and watch the shows he wanted to watch (mostly Batman: The Animated Series).

Sometimes the pair would even go for rides on his Uncle's classic Harley-Davidson motorcycle (unbeknownst to his mother) with Derek always seated in the back, his arms spread out like an eagle as they glide through the roads, feeling free and content, almost forgetting the memories of his dark past.

That all changed one Wednesday afternoon.

The women of the house decided to go out shopping that day, asking Derek and Peter if they wanted to come with. Derek (who's always kind of been a hermit, even when he was young) declined the offer, his Uncle Peter volunteering to stay behind to look after him.

As soon as the door closes, his Uncle turns to him, a smile on his face.

"What do you want to do?"

Derek thought about it first, belatedly realizing that this was the first time he had been alone in the house with his Uncle, and trying to decide what they should spend their time doing. He was still sorta tired from yesterday (it had been Cora's 4th birthday party) and so he didn't really feel like doing anything active. 

Besides, a new Batman episode was coming on today.

"Watch TV?" he offers, shrugging his shoulders.

"Sure."

As Derek went to go in the living room, a hand abruptly grips his shoulder, halting him. He looks up to see his Uncle smirking at him.

"Why don't we watch in my bedroom?" he had said, taking both his shoulders and leading him towards his room upstairs, not waiting for an answer.

Once they got there, his Uncle had pulled his shirt off, lain down on the bed, and patted the spot right next to him.

"Come."

Now Derek had only been eight years old at the time, but even then he got this queasy feeling in his stomach that told him something didn't feel right.

Peter patted the spot again as he took the remote and turned the TV on, "Come on" he urged impatiently, "and close the door behind you." 

Not knowing what else to do and ignoring the feeling in his gut, he went to go lay down on the bed, a couple of feet away from his Uncle.

"Don't go shy on me now," he says as he easily pulls his nephew closer to him, placing him directly beside him.

"There you go."

The knot in Derek's stomach grew tighter, because something about this whole situation just felt....off.

 

Seconds go by and nothing happens. A minute passes and still nothing. After ten minutes the only eventful thing that happens is his Uncle laughing at a joke that the Joker said on TV.

_Stop being weird Derek._

Ten more minutes roll by and Derek forces himself to relax, ignoring the glances he catches his Uncle giving him from the corner of his eyes. By the time they hit the half hour mark, Derek's completely forgotten about everything, his guard down and eyes glued to the screen, watching Batman with an intensity very few eight year olds probably would have (He considered himself the world's biggest Batman fan because he WILL be Batman one day), failing to notice his Uncle's hand suddenly placed on his thigh.

It isn't until about an hour later when he feels it, the hand creeping closer to his....you know,... _thing,_ before Derek swats it away angrily. His Uncle retracts his hand and stares at him unbothered, as if he had done nothing wrong.

"What are you doing?!" Derek asks him, scooting away in a hurry.

Peter regards him coolly, simply responding with "Nothing," before turning back to face the screen.

Derek, still kind of freaked out, starts to get off the bed.

"Woah, oh ok wait a minute hold on," his Uncle says, hand reaching out to grip his elbow, "Look, I promise I won't do it again ok?"

Despite his better judgement, Derek hesitates. 

 _Well, a new episode IS_   _coming up soon._

As if on cue Peter taunts, "Come on, you wouldn't want to miss the new episode, would you?"

And again, despite the feeling in his gut telling him to run, he stayed, positioning himself as far away from his Uncle as possible, trying desperately hard to ignore his presence by focusing on the TV.

This works for all about ten minutes before his Uncle pins him down to the bed.

It happened so fast that Derek barely had time to register the fact that one moment he was watching Batman meet a new villain named Harley Quinn for the first time, and the next his Uncle was looming over him, a wide grin plastered on his face.

"Wha-"

His Uncle's hand suddenly comes down on his mouth as Peter leans down to whisper quietly in his ear.

"You _deserve_ this," he hisses, " _You_ put your mother in jail. _You_ made her kill your own father. Might as well have pulled the trigger yourself."

His Uncle's words made him freeze, ceasing to struggle under his grasp. He was practically voicing out everything that troubled Derek's young mind, fanning the flame to his guilt and insecurities.

_How did he know?_

As if he had read his mind, his Uncle sneers.

"What, you thought I didn't know?" He questioned as he took a big whiff at the crook of Derek's neck, "I could practically _smell_ the shame on you from killing my brother."

He feels something wet swipe at his neck and up towards his ear, realizing that what he was feeling was his Uncle's tongue.

Derek's cheek felt wet all of a sudden as tears quickly rolled down his cheeks. He hadn't even realized he had started crying.

Peter sits back up to look down on him with mock sympathy, sarcastically uttering "Aw. You _poor_ thing," before proceeding to slap him hard across his cheek.

"You kill my brother and your family has the _AUDACITY_ to come to _me_ for _HELP_?!" he shouts, taking his belt off to tie Derek's wrists together above his head, cinching it together tightly.

Derek tries hard not to cry out from the pain, not to let his Uncle see how much he's hurting him, remembering how his father had only hit his mother harder when she pleaded.

 _Why is he doing this?_ he thinks to himself as he turns his head toward the side, unable to look his Uncle, who he thought he could trust, in the eye.

When he looks away, Peter squeezes his cheeks together and turns his head to make Derek look at him, spitting directly at his nephew's young face.

"You need to be punished for ruining everyone's life," he growls out as he unbuttons the top button of his pants, "You're just a worthless piece of shit aren't you?" 

He pulls down his zipper and rises a little bit, aggressively pulling down his pants and underwear in one go, his already hard cock springing free, slapping his stomach.

"You deserve what's coming to you," he says, taking his cock and slapping it all over Derek's face, who squeezes his eyes shut and grimaces, having never felt so _dirty_ before in his life.

_In the dark, I can pretend that this isn't happening._

"And if you tell anyone about this..." he hears his Uncle whisper, feeling the tip drag slowly down to rest between his lips, "I'll shoot your mother myself."

Derek's eyes bolt open.

Seeing the panic and fierce anger flash in his eyes, Peter leans back down and presses his lips against his, forcibly pushing his tongue inside the young boy's mouth.

This goes on for a while till Derek's squirming his head from his Uncle's grip, feeling like he can't breathe anymore.

That was _not_ how he imagined his first kiss would be.

Peter hovers over him, his face directly above his own.

Something about the look in his eyes reminds Derek of his own father, and all at once he's reminded again of that day.

"Now, are you going to be a good boy for me?" his Uncle questions him, Peter's eyes piercing down his own, making him feel naked and vulnerable, despite the fact that he was still fully clothed.

A _click_ sound catches Derek's attention, as someone on TV tries to shoot at someone else, gunshots filling the tense silence.

Fearing for his family's life, he nods.

"Yes sir."

 

Peter smiles.

 

 

+++++

+++++

+++++ 

 

 

_This is for your own good._

These were the words that Peter would utter in his ear, every single time they had " _playtime_ " together. These were the words that would remain forever imprinted in his head, the words that haunted his thoughts, haunted his nightmares every single time he went to sleep. 

These were the words that ran through his mind as the house he had grown up in for the last ten years burned down before his very eyes, taking Peter, Aunt Henny, their children, and his mother along with it.

The fire had been his fault too.

He was the one who had dated Kate, who had brought her into his home knowing full well that she was the town's established resident arsonist. But he never thought for one second that she could do, or would do something like this.

No, how could he have been so blind?

How could he not have seen this coming?

The answer occurs to him as he watches Kate getting arrested. She catches his eye and blows a kiss towards him before getting shoved into the back of a cop car, disappearing from his sight.

It's because he thought he loved her, and she loved him.

After all, she had been the first person he had ever told about Peter. The first person he had opened up to about his father's death and the constant guilt he felt for making his mother kill her own husband. 

And she had stood there while he was in tears, making (what he now recognizes as false) noises of sympathy and comfort, talking about how he was lucky he had her there to help him, to get him through this. And Derek, desperate for some sort of connection and support, had believed her, he _believed her_ when she had practically called him useless without her.

The sad part was, he didn't even think Kate was necessarily wrong, because he had been too scared, too weak, to tell his mother what's been going on behind closed doors for the past ten years. She simply thought that he had been naturally distant, Derek pushing her away everytime she had tried to talk, in fear that she would find out the truth and be disgusted with him.

He had been so rude to his mother in order to keep her away, keep her from finding out, and yet she would still find someway to show him kindness, show him that she loves him (Derek had a box filled with Batman memorabilia from his mother, since she knew he loved Batman, and would often buy him small things related to his favorite vigilante). And he couldn't exactly blame her either for not picking up on what was happening, Peter always made sure to play it safe, never risking it whenever anybody else was home, and never leaving a mark where anybody could see. Besides,  _he_ was the one who had been too fearful to do anything about it, who had lacked the courage to tell the truth.

And the price he has to pay for his cowardice?

His mother's life.

That night, Derek made a promise to himself as the smell of smoke and ash grew heavy in the air, the house ablaze and burning brightly in front of him, symbolizing the death of both the person he hated the most, and one of the few people he's ever loved. That night, as the heat from the flames stung his eyes, he vowed he would never be weak again, that he would become stronger so that no one could ever break him once more, the way Peter has.

The cop car that holds Kate prisoner drives away, and Derek could see his ex-lover's silhouette, her head turned, staring back at him. He watches the vehicle drive farther and farther away, till it's over the hill and out of his view.

He looks behind him to see his two sisters, cuddled up and crying together in the back of an ambulance, blanket thrown over both their shoulders. Cora's crying out loud and wailing uncontrollably as Laura's huddled over her, trying her best to console their younger sister.

_I did that. I caused that._

It was Derek's fault that their whole lives are now turned upside down. He was the one who had pulled the rug out from under everything they've come to know as safe and stable (though Derek never really felt quite at home in that house, for obvious reasons), he was the reason that they're now orphans, now homeless, the reason they all had to grow up twice as fast now that they had no parents.

_Because of me. Because of my stupid mistake. Because I was weak._

He might as well have pulled the trigger, might as well have started the fire.

And in that moment, Derek made another promise to himself. He promised himself that he would never fall in love again, because to be in love, is to be vulnerable, and to be vulnerable, is to be weak.

He looks back at the remnants of the house, most of the fire having died down since the firefighters arrived, and takes a deep breath.

_I'm sorry mom, I'm so sorry._

After a moment, he grits his teeth and shuts his jaw tight as he walks towards what's left of his family, not looking back at the ashes.

No, he can't afford to be weak now. There will be time to grieve the death of his mother (probably when he's alone and no one's watching) but right now, his sisters need him to be strong.

 

And strong he became.

 

But you could only be strong for so long before you inevitably break.

 

 

+++++

+++++

+++++

 

  

 

He doesn't know why he did what he did.

 

By the time the elevator cart rode up and opened its doors, Derek didn't bother looking for Stiles. He knew he was gone from him, in more ways than one. 

Feeling tired out and bruised, he walked out the main doors and slumped against the brick exterior of the club, not knowing what to do next. Thankfully, there was no one outside. He took a few moments to stare at nothing in particular, breathing heavily and wincing a little bit from the pain on the side of his stomach.

Who knew Scott had so much strength in him?

_He got me good._

Derek sighs, remembering the look on Stile's face right before the elevator doors closed on him. 

_And I deserved it._

He leans his head back on the wall behind him, shutting the world out, focusing heavily on his breathing. 

_Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale..._

God, when did it get so hard to breathe?

Opening his eyes, he stares at the night sky, noticing how clear it is tonight, how bright and beautiful the moon looks, full and glowing. Then, just as he was about to close his eyes again, something catches his eye. It's a single bright spot that trails downward, towards the ground.

A meteor.

Another one appears, and then another, until the sky seemed to be filled with them, casting a smile on Derek's face.

His mother would have loved to see this.

And so would Stiles.

His mother and Stiles were the only two people he's ever met in his life who seemed so utterly fascinated with the night sky. His mother especially loved constellations while Stiles claims that he's always had a thing for the moon. When Derek had given Stiles a telescope for his birthday (back when they were just dating), they spent the entire night out in Stile's backyard, bundled up together and just watching the sky. Stiles eventually dozed off first, snuggling up to him, and had mumbled the words _I love you_  for the first time ever right before knocking out. When he had woken up in the morning, the first words out of Derek's mouth had been _I love you too_ , though Stiles couldn't remember being the first one to say it.

Derek closes his eyes once more, causing the tears that had been building in them to fall down his cheeks. 

_I fucked up bad._

The tears kept coming as he started to sob silently, the realization of what he had done coming down on him, and that familiar feeling of guilt coming back to greet him like an old friend.

_I am so sorry..._

He thought of Stiles and how badly he'd treated him, thought of his mother and how he'd taken her presence for granted, thought of his sister Laura who died giving birth for _his_ child, thought of his father, Peter, and Aunt Henny who he had killed.

It was all his fault.

No matter where he went, no matter how happy he seemed, it was only a matter of time before something bad happens. He was always gonna fuck things up. It's practically been ingrained in his DNA, practically part of his nature to do so.

He thinks of Laura, and how he had held her on that night Stiles couldn't wake up, how he had to single handedly comfort his child for the first time, and how she eventually smiled up at him as he did so, right before drifting off to sleep.

_I don't deserve her._

He thinks of his husband, how he had cried when he walked into the room to find Derek still cradling Laura, how he had taken care of their child all by himself while he grieved his sister's death. 

_I don't deserve him._

He thought about the pain he's put them through, the pain he's inflicted on his entire family, the deaths he's caused, and comes to a realization.

_I don't deserve to live._

Derek opens his eyes to an empty sky, meteor shower having long passed, the sky now a dark canvas, no star in sight.

He could end it tonight if he really wanted to, go back to the house, set it on fire and lie down on the bed where it still smelled faintly of Stiles. Watch the flames consume everything around him, basking in the heat as the flames would continue to engulf what was once a happy home. And when they finally travel over to Derek, he wouldn't fight it. No, he would let the flames burn him away slowly, dying the way his mother had.

The moon catches his attention, its light steadily beaming in the dark of the night. 

Stiles.

Should he choose to kill himself, Stiles would only blame himself. Out of all the people in the world, Derek should know how much death could affect a person, how much it can change you. He can't put all that on Stile's shoulders, hell, he wouldn't even wish it upon his worst enemies, much less the man he loves.

Wincing, he takes his phone out of his pocket and dials a number. He took a cab to get here (the camaro still in the shop) but somehow the prospect of a stranger driving him around right now was not something he wanted. 

Right now what he wanted was the comfort of his sister.

She picks up on the third ring.

"Derek, it's two o'clock in the morning so this better be important."

He struggles to find the words to speak.

"I-" he starts, almost cringing at how _raw_ his voice had sounded.

He hears some rustling on the other side of the phone, no doubt Cora getting up.

"Where are you? I'm coming to get you," she says, alarm suddenly in her voice.

"Beacons," he manages to say after clearing his throat, voice still feeling rusty.

"The new nightclub?" she asks, "What the hell were you doing there?"

"Stiles wa-" he had started to say as he leaned off the wall, suddenly feeling very lightheaded. 

The pain on his side seemed to intensify without the support of the wall and black spots now blurred his vision, everything in his sight spinning. 

He backs up on the wall once again for support, but it seems to be too little too late as a wave of gut wrenching pain hits him out of nowhere.

 

Derek was vaguely aware he was falling, catching a glimpse of the concrete sidewalk right before his world goes dark.

 

"Derek? DEREK?!" Cora had called out. 

 

She didn't get an answer.

 

 

+++++

+++++

+++++

 

 

"Stiles..."

He hears a voice call out to him, and for a second he thinks it's Derek, but that's weird. Derek's not with him right now, is he?

"Stiles..."

He sees him all of a sudden, a lying heap on the ground, unmoving.

_Derek? DEREK?!_

"Stiles, wake the fuck up," Isaac exclaims as he shakes his shoulder, vision blurry for a moment as he realizes he was only dreaming. Looking around he could see that they were still in Isaac's van, finally on the way home.

He breathes a sigh of relief.

_Good, so it wasn't real._

Catching his reflection on the rear view mirror, he notices his cheeks are wet from crying.

_When did that happen?_

As if to answer his question, Isaac explained, "You were crying out for Derek in your sleep. Almost woke up the puppy." 

He nods towards the back where Scott is undoubtedly still passed out, before turning his eyes back onto the road.

Stiles mutters an apology, wiping away at his cheeks with his shirt sleeve. A few minutes pass by in silence, the low hum of the van's engine strangely comforting to his ears.

Needing some fresh air he rolls the window down a bit to let the night air in, the breeze cooling his face and drying what's left of his tears. Yet, he couldn't help but feel somewhat on edge, like he was dreading something that was coming. It was a strange feeling.

"You wanna talk about it?" Isaac asks him, eyes still watching the road with careful precision. He always was the best driver out of the three of them.

"Not really," he murmured.

They drive up to a stoplight, barely missing the green light (damn it) and slowing down to a stop. Isaac turns to him.

"You sure?" he presses, eyebrows drawn up in question.

Stiles takes his eyes off from the hula girl bobble head on the dashboard to meet Isaac's eyes and he could see the worry behind them, not unlike Scott's though he doesn't quite have the same 'puppy dog eyes' effect.

"What's there to talk about? My husband cheated on me for God knows how long with who knows how many people and yet I'm still stupid enough to worry about where he is right now because I STILL LOVE HIM," he admitted all in one breath, grounding out the last few words in particular.

It hurts to say it out loud, to confess out in the open that he still loved the man who had betrayed him. The worst part is, that probably won't ever change, he'll always love him in the end wouldn't he?

Pathetic.

The light turns green and Isaac starts driving again.

"You know," he starts as he turns the wheel, making a right turn, "Loving him doesn't make you weak. Or stupid. It just means you're human."

Stiles rolls his eyes.

"Gee, thanks for that sound advice Dr. Phil, did you read that off of a Hallmark card?" he retorts, "Pretty sure that's a song or movie reference anyway."

Isaac just smirks and shakes his head, well used to Stile's sarcastic hostility by now. In fact, that's probably why he became friends with him in the first place, not many people looked at him with anything other than pity since news broke out about his abusive father in high school. But not Stiles, no, he had treated him like he had anybody else, and Isaac liked that (although Scott needed a week or two before he stopped giving him puppy eyes).

"How did you catch him by the way? You never actually told me that." 

"What, I never told you?" Stiles puzzled, sifting through his head trying to remember if he really hadn't told Isaac.

"No you didn't," came the response. He catches the way Isaac's expression dims slightly, eyes dropping down for a second.

"Well shit, I'm sorry man I didn't mean to be a bad friend, it's just...a lots happened this week you know?" he reasoned, unsure how to make it up to him.

Admittedly, Stiles hasn't really thought about Isaac in the past week, the first person he'd wanted to talk to about the affair being Scott (though that should be a given since they're practically brothers). But still, he thinks of Isaac as a very close friend, and it was pretty shitty of him to not actually let him know what's been going on in his life.

Isaac just shrugs.

"It's OK," he objects, looking anything but.

Stiles scoffs at that before remarking, "Um no, it isn't, but I'll make it up to you. All three of us can have lunch tomorrow at Rooftops, how about that? I'll treat," he offers, knowing full well that he wouldn't be able to resist.

Well, truth be told, none of them can. Rooftops, ironically enough, was an underground (though not nearly as deep as Beacons was) hole-in-the-wall type of restaurant ran by a sweet old lady named Anne, who possessed a mass of wild curly hair (which reminded Stiles of his mother) and had the best pizza (and curly fries, don't forget the curly fries) around town. 

"I'm holding you to that promise," Isaac affirmed seriously, looking over at him for a quick second to quirk up an eyebrow.

Stiles holds up three fingers, "The three amigos never lie to each other, only to other people, for the use of entertainment," he proclaimed, the two (grown) men snickering right afterwards.

They both thought back to the time they had all managed to fool Finstock (their horrible lacrosse coach), making him think he was haunted by claiming he was being followed around by an Asian lady he couldn't see. Scott had been the one to give it away, not being able to keep a straight face whenever he told a lie, for the use of entertainment or otherwise.

After a few seconds, Isaac insisted again.

"No, but seriously how did you catch him?" 

Stiles sighs dejectedly, the air getting heavy once more. It still hurt to think about it (or talk about it, for that matter), but he owed Isaac this.

"We answered the phone at the same time, his..." he hesitates, not knowing what to call Danny. 

_What is Danny to Derek?_

"Lover..." he decides, grimacing as he says it, "called him up asking to meet. I pretended to be asleep, Derek left and I drove over to where he we-"

"Wait, how did you know where he was?" Isaac interjected.

"Find my iPhone," he boasted, smirking up at Isaac, who hums in amusement.

"Anyway, I follow him to this house and I head over to this window because I'm hearing something going on right? And when I get closer I could hear him fucking- guess who- Danny as in DANNY WHITTEMORE!" he shouted, arms flailing exaggeratedly as if to further prove his point, causing Scott to stir in his sleep.

Isaac's mouth drops open, "As in Jackson's _husband_ Danny? _That_ Danny?" 

Stiles shakes his head up and down vigorously as he goes on, "Yea that's the one! And want to know something else too? I think they've been fucking for a while now because I called Derek's office right, and Erica, you know Erica, she told me that he's been on vacation this WHOLE ENTIRE WEEK."

He didn't know how he expected Isaac to react (part of Stiles half expected him to go all "Shut up! No way" like they do in the movies), but it certainly wasn't this.

Isaac was avoiding looking at Stiles, looking straight ahead at the road determinedly, eyes gone wide at the realization of... _something_.

He's seen that look before.

He was hiding something from him.

"You know something," he states matter of factedly (that's not a word), eyes squinting in suspicion.

Isaac visibly hesitates for a few seconds, before heaving a sigh and taking his right hand off the wheel to scratch the side of his head.

"I think I may know what the whole, _week vacation_ thing's about..." 

Stiles sits upright immediately (ever the sloucher) and looks Isaac in the eye. Well, more like side eye since he can't look directly at him.

"What?" he inquires, a little more harshness in his tone than he intended.

"He said that he told you already," Isaac argued, making a left onto Scott's street, "I'm not really sure it's my place to tell."

"Isaac, please..."

He waits till they're parked in front of Scott's house, turning the engine off and taking the keys out of the ignition before turning to face Stiles.

"Derek's in my RAINN group," he blurts out.

Stiles just looks at him in confusion because what, was that supposed to make sense to him? What the hell is _RAINN_ and what the fuck does it have to do with Derek cheating on him?

Apparently his confusion registers onto his face because Isaac goes on to explain.

"RAINN stands for Rape, Abuse and Incest National Network," he clarifies, "We have daily support groups. Derek's in it." 

Rare are the times that Stiles can honestly say he's been struck speechless. This was one of them.

_Why would Derek be in a support group for something like that?_

He had known about Kate of course, the bitch who killed what was left of Derek's family, more notably his mother. In fact, Kate's probably the reason why Derek had been so careful to take it slow with Stiles in the beginning of their relationship. But as far as he knew, she had led Derek to believe that they were in love before setting his house on fire, but abuse and rape? She couldn't have, could she?

_If she's not above murder what makes you think she isn't above the other shit? Use your head Stiles._

"Uhm..." he struggled to find the words he was looking for, "wha-why exactly is he in a support group for those things?"

Isaac arches an eyebrow (yet again).

"You mean he's never told you?" 

He shakes his head.

Isaac scoffs, looking at him disbelievingly as if he was sure Stiles was messing with him. After a few moments his eyes go wide (also yet again), shocked as it dawns on him that Stiles really didn't know.

"Huh. Well shit, um..." Isaac was the one who was speechless now, taking a few seconds to decide how to word what he wanted to say before clearing his throat and starting again, "Derek's been pretty closed off since he joined about a week ago. I mean he'd listen to everyone and even get all...you know, angry and growly on the other member's behalf each time they told their stories but whenever it came around to his turn to share, he'd always just pass it off to the next person. Until yesterday."

He takes a deep breath and looks down at his hands gripping the steering wheel, knuckles white. It was never really an easy thing to talk about abuse or rape, even if it wasn't his own story, there's always this sense of a familiar feeling that washes over him. Does every victim of abuse feel this way?

"Turns out, his Uncle Peter, I think that's his name, raped and abused him for about ten years till he died," he disclosed, voice quivering ever so slightly, "And before that he said his father used to hit him too, when he was little."

The last one hit a little too close to home. Everytime he hears any mention of an abusive father, it always hit a little too close, memories of his grim past flooding back.

Stiles sat there, mouth agape, not really knowing what to say.

What is there to say?

Why is it that Derek, the man he loves who he has been married to for TEN YEARS, had never thought to tell him about this? Why had he hidden this from him? Why would he not tell him about something so significant as that? Why is he-

"Hey, whatreyou guys talkin bout?" Scott slurs out, head popping out between them, obviously still out of it.

Stiles and Isaac flinch, both of them previously too wrapped up in their thoughts to have noticed their friend starting to wake up a minute ago.

Scott, upon seeing the serious expressions his best friends have on their faces, starts to get worried.

"Woah, arre you guys o-," vomit races up from his stomach and up his throat before he could stop himself, throwing up all over the center console, liquid bile spreading everywhere.

Stiles had seen it coming and immediately stepped out the car door, while Isaac (who hadn't thought ahead quick enough) got some puke on his right thigh, staining his favorite pair of jeans.

"SCOTT!!!" he growled out in a rare display of anger. He barely loosed control of his chill, and everytime he does it always seemed to involve Scott throwing up on him (this being one of many times he had done so, while Stiles had always narrowly dodged it somehow just in time).

Scott looks straight at Isaac, puppy eyes in full effect, as it always is after he does something wrong.

"M' sorry."

Isaac's heated glare bores through Scott's eyes for several moments before cooling down to a look of annoyance. There's no way he could stay mad at Scott for too long whenever he brought on the puppy eyes. No one can.

"One day I'll get over those eyes, I swear," he mutters as he gets out of the van.

Stiles laughs from the street curb, closing the van's passenger door as he does so.

"You know you say that every single time?" 

Isaac scowls (probably at Stiles for always managing to avoid their friend's projectile vomit) as he slides open the back door, doubting Scott could open it himself in his current state.

"You owe me a slice at Rooftops," he declared to Scott, shutting the door behind him once Scott manages to clamber out, "and a new pair of jeans too."

Scott sends a dopey smile Isaac's way.

"Don't I always?" he chuckles before passing out, Stiles and Isaac scrambling to catch him, just in time.

Stiles hooks one of Scott's arms around his shoulder, Isaac doing the same to the other.

"We're never taking him out for drinks ever again."

"Agreed," came Isaac's response, both men knowing full well that they were lying.

 

 

+++++

+++++

+++++

 

 

They got as far as Scott's front porch when Stiles realized something was wrong.

 

They had been walking their drunk friend up the walkway when halfway there Stiles happened to casually glance over to his right, immediately noting the absence of both Allison's and Lydia's car. 

Immediately, a knot formed in his gut, instincts telling him that something was off. 

The feeling of dread he had felt in the car now coming back in ten folds.

"Stiles, come on, I can't carry him alone," Isaac chides, Stiles realizing he had stopped dead in his tracks.

"Yea..sorry," he mumbles as he readjusts Scott's arm around him and walks on.

When they (finally) get to the front door, Isaac was just about to ring the doorbell when the door _FLEW_ open, knocking both him and Scott over to the side.

Stiles barely had time to register what was happening before a gun was shoved in his face, Danny on the other end, standing in the doorway.

He looked as if he had been crying for hours, his eyes rimmed red, the skin around them looking raw. His usually neat hair was a mess, sticking out in various directions, and his eyes (which were trained on Stiles at the moment) looked absolutely _feral_.

"YOU," he hissed, voice seething with venom, "You TOOK him from me!"

Part of Stiles totally wanted to say something smart in that moment, always imagining himself to be somewhat of a badass in the face of danger when he was younger, but now that he's actually faced with a gun pointed directly at him and the possibility of losing his life and leaving his family behind now very likely, all he could seem to do in that moment was close his eyes and pray to some powers that be up above that his family will be all right.

He feels the barrel of the gun poke at his chest roughly.

"I'm gonna KILL you for-"

Guess he'll never know what Danny would've killed him for because Isaac (thank god) had kicked the door back closed with all the strength he could muster from where he lay on the ground, Scott (still) passed out on top of him, hitting Danny and causing him to accidentally drop his weapon and stumble to the side.

Stiles dives for the gun, belatedly realizing it's a rifle (his dad's favorite) before picking it up and directing it at Danny, fingers shaking over the trigger.

"S-Stop moving or I'll shoot," he shouts, surprised at how steady his voice sounded when inside he felt anything but.

Could he really shoot him?

Danny stands there for several seconds, glaring at him with such intensity it could even rival Derek's.

"Now look, just calm do-"

Suddenly, he charges toward Stiles.

His fingers automatically squeeze the trigger, the kickback almost knocking him to the railing as Danny ceases abruptly, crumpling to the ground.

 

Those daddy lessons came in handy today.

 

 


	6. Daddy Lessons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a pretty short chapter and to be completely honest nothing much happens other than to give a few glimpses into Stiles past.

Stiles and his father sat on the stairs leading up to the front porch of his childhood home, the Sheriff's bags placed behind them.

They had been trying to say goodbye for about twenty minutes, Stiles unusually quiet the whole time.

"So I was thinking, on the weekends you're with me that I'd finally teach you how to use a gun. Huh? How about that?" the Sheriff offered, trying to fill the empty silence. It never meant anything good when his boy wasn't speaking.

"Do you have to go?" Stiles bursts, completely ignoring the question.

"Stiles, we've talked about thi-"

"But you don't have to GO go, do you? I was thinking maybe you could just stay here and you and Mom don't even have to talk to each other, you could sleep in seperate rooms and no one would have to leave so I wouldn't need to go to two houses for Christmas or Thanksgiving or any other holiday you can think of really an-"

"Stiles. Breathe." 

He did just that, not even realizing he was speaking all under one breath. He takes a few moments to take some deep breaths, not wanting to have a panic attack again. 

After a while, things settled down, and the silence was back.

"You know, I did your mother wrong so badly. And if I could take it back, I would. But she deserves someone better, someone who wouldn't cheat on her with someone else's wife," the Sheriff confessed quietly, looking down at the ground in shame.

Stiles sighed.

"Yea, I know dad," he says for what feels like the hundredth time. He's heard it all before.

"I just-"

"I just can't believe you would do that. I mean, do you even love mom anymore? Love me?"

"Now Stiles, that isn't a fair questio-"

"Yes it is!" he shouts, abruptly standing up to look his father in the eye, "Because if you really love me and mom, you wouldn't have done what you did! You wouldn't have made her go through all this when you know she's dying! You wouldn't have...you.....you wouldn't be leaving right now when we need you the most. When I need you dad." 

He was suddenly aware of how heavy he was breathing, and how wet his cheeks were.

"Look, Stile-"

"Just go."

"Stiles, she wants me to g-"

"JUST GO!" he cried out, running back inside the house to his mother's room, where he knows his father won't go into.

He sat down in the chair next to her bed, and broke down crying.

"That bad huh?" 

Stiles looked up to see his mother awake, her own cheeks damp as she faced him.

He nodded.

"Don't worry baby," she placed her hand over his, "I'm right here with you."

He willed himself to stop crying before responding.

"I know mom, I know."

Stiles had only been 12 years old when his dad left.

A year later, his mother passed away.

 

 

++++

++++

++++

 

 

"STILES, WHAT DID YOU DO??!" Isaac screams at him as his shaking hands drops the rifle.

Danny's body lay in front of them, a small pool of blood forming around the side of his stomach where the bullet hit.

Stiles stared in shock, unsure of what to do.

"Is he-" 

"I-I don't know."

"Jesus, Stiles."

A few tense moments pass in silence, as both men looked at each other and down at the body.

Bending down, Isaac put two fingers on Danny's wrist, and again on his neck before standing back up and facing Stiles.

"I...I couldn't feel anything," he declared, face grim.

A few more tense moments passed by after that, the two men realizing the weight of the situation when finally, Isaac took a deep breath out loud. 

"Allright, come on," he whispers out loud as he bent back down to lift Danny up, "I'll help you hide the body."

"Dude, what."

"What do you mean what, we have to hide the fucking body Stiles," he says as he loops his hands around Danny's pits, managing to raise him a few inches off the floor, "Christ he's fucking heavier than he looks. Hurry, grab the other half."

"NO. We are not hiding his body Isaac," Stiles replies as he takes out his phone from his back pocket, "I'm calling the cops."

"What, no Stiles you could get arrested for this, think about Laura, you have a child for godsakes."

Stiles stops right before pressing the call button (having already pressed the numbers 911) to look down at Danny's body.

After taking a deep breath, he sighs out loud defeatedly.

"It's the right thing to do," he decides, thumb hitting the call button, "and besides, it's not like I've never been arrested before."

Brows furrowed, Isaac drops Danny's upper body back onto the floor again.

"And Laura?"

Stiles looks Isaac dead in his eyes as the dial tone rings in his ear.

"Take care of her for me."

Isaac nods.

"911, what's your emergency?"

 

 

++++

++++

++++

 

 

 "You're WHAT?"

"Gay."

"As in-"

"Homosexual. I like men dad. I prefer penis to a vagi-"

"I know what it means Stiles."

"Ok, just making sure, just making sure."

Silence took over the Sheriff's car as they were driving home. It had been late, the meeting with the little shit who had beat Stiles up and the principal had taken longer than expected, mostly because of the little boy's father who kept arguing with both the Sheriff and the principal. It was evident the apple didn't fall far from the tree.

When the Sheriff had first walked in the principal's office and seen his little boy with a black eye, it took everything in him not to punch the boy who sat next to Stiles. It had only been about a year since Claudia died, and it had been hard on the both of them. Still, he never imagined that he'd ever get a call from the school saying Stiles had gotten into a fight, the kid couldn't even kill a spider. 

"Is that why-"

"No. I could care less what he had to say about me being gay."

"Then what was the fight really about then?"

Part of the reason the meeting took so long was because neither of the boys would fess up about what started the fight, despite the adults practically grilling them to find out the truth. Both kids proved to be stubborn, especially Stiles, although that didn't surprise the Sheriff, Claudia was like that too. 

_I guess the apple didn't fall far from that tree either._

"Well?" 

There was a moment of silence before Stiles spoke up, turning to look out the window, facing away from his father.

"He's the son of your mistress-- sorry, i guess it's ex-mistress now right? He found out a couple months ago that you were who his mother had an affair with, in case you didn't already know his parents divorced because of that by the way, and he's been messing with me ever since."

Instant guilt surged through the Sheriff's body.

The truth was, the Sheriff didn't even know the woman he cheated with all that well, the thought of her having a family of her own didn't even cross his mind. And now his son is sitting in his car with a black eye, and in a way it's all his fault. He caused this to happen.

His grip tightened on the wheel.

"What made you crack then?" he asked, knowing Stiles had been the first to throw a punch.

"He mentioned mom. Called her names. Said bad things about her, about you."

There was a slight pause before the Sheriff responded.

"Well, in that case I hope you made the most of that first hit."

 Both of them chuckled slightly at that, momentarily easing the tension in the air.

The rest of the car ride home was shared in comfortable silence, till the Sheriff pulled the car into the driveway, shutting off the engine. Neither Stiles or him made a move to get out. 

"Are you sure you're gay?"

Stiles nods, looking down at his fidgeting hands. 

"Hey, look at me Stiles."

He obeyed, the Sheriff immediately noticing the the pool of water collecting in his eyes. 

"Did uh..did she know?"

Another nod.

"I told her a few months before she died."

"And how did she react?"

He snickered to himself before answering, "She asked if Scott was my boyfrien-"

"Is he your boyfrie-"

"Ew dad, gross NO! That'd practically be incest. When I told her that, she laughed and said I wasn't allowed to have boys sleepover then unless it was Scott."

"Ahh, that...sounds about right to how I picture your mother would react."

"Yea.."

"Now look," the Sheriff said, his tone hardening, "I accept you Stiles. I don't give a rat's ass if you like men."

A sigh of relief escaped from Stiles, who hadn't realized until then that he was holding his breath in anticipation. 

"Thanks dad, that means a lot to me...really," he uttered as he wrapped his arms around his father, squeezing him tight, "I uh, I love you dad."

"I love you too son, no matter what, you know that?" the sheriff replied, hugging his son back before putting his hands on Stile's shoulders, "But I want you to know something first-"

"What, what is it?"

"People aren't....they aren't always understanding of other people, especially people who are different from them-"

"Dad, stop. I know what you're about to say. I get it. People are assholes and-"

"And you'll probably be made fun of and discriminated against. Which is why, I'm gonna toughen you up." 

Confusion arose in Stile's face but before he could speak, the Sheriff went on.

"Let me explain, I'm signing you up for karate or boxing class, or something, anything to teach you how to fight. It'll help put my mind at ease, knowing you'll know how to defend yourself if you ever need to."

"I think I'm pretty set in the defense departme-."

"Physical defense son, not just talking, I know you're plenty good at that."

Snickering, Stiles nodded, "Sure dad, if it'll make you feel better."

"It would."

"Then I guess I'm taking karate. Or boxing. What about Kung Fu? That'd be pretty cool," he says as they both got out the car.

"Whatever you want Stiles," the Sheriff chuckles, putting his arm around his son as they walk towards the front door, "Hey, how about I finally teach you how to shoot a rifle huh?"

"You know what, I'd love that Dad. But I kinda doubt I'll ever need to actually use one though."

"Hey, you never know."

 

 

++++

++++

++++

 

 

 "Sir? Hello? Sir?"

Stiles snapped out of the trance he was in, suddenly remembering where he was. The paramedics had been the first to arrive, quickly putting Danny in an ambulance driven off to the Beacon Hills hospital. The police came not long after that, questioning the trio (Scott had been awake, though still intoxicated, by then) separately on what had happened as Scott's house was being taped off by other policemen. Quite a few of Scott's neighbors (along with other spectators) had collected around the border, trying to figure out what had happened.

"I'm sorry," Stiles said to the officer currently looming over him as he sat on the front steps of the house, "I'm still kind of in-shock, I blanked out of there for a second, what was the question?"

The officer gave a sympathetic smile before saying "You were the one who shot the man, correct?"

Stiles gulped before answering "Yes."

"And you claim that this man was threatening to shoot you and your friends? And that you only shot him in self defense?"

"Yes."

The officer took a moment to sigh quietly to himself as he closed his notepad before saying "Well ok then. We'll let you go for now but know that you will have a trial coming up so don't leave town anytime soon. I suggest getting yourself a lawyer, especially if the man you shot ends up dying. We'll also need to inspect the house so you and your friends will have to stay someplace else for the night."

_No problem._

"Yes sir."

Standing up, Stiles headed over to the van, where Isaac and Scott were waiting for him, done with their own interviews. 

As soon as he was within proximity, Scott and Isaac embraced him, resulting in a touching (yet slightly awkward) hug that lasted for a about a minute.

Isaac was the first to pull away, quickly wiping away a tear with the sleeve of his shirt before speaking.

"All right, we need to find a place to stay for tonight."

"Yea," Stiles replied, teary eyed himself. 

_It's been a hell of a night._

"Lydia would probably let us crash at hers," he stated, patting Scott's head on his shoulder "Ok Scottie you need to let me go now."

Scott reluctantly obliged, sniffling and not even bothering to hide the fact that he's been bawling his eyes out.

"Wait," Scott said, a confused look on his face, "Where's Lydia? Allison? The kids?"

 

Fear surged through the three men as they realized that they were nowhere to be found...

 

 

 


End file.
